The Red String of Fate's Mark
by XaoshiTheKuroTenshi
Summary: Viktor-a man with love overflowing from within himself but no one to share it with. Yuuri-a man who has given all his love to everyone except himself. In light of this, fate tied their red string of fate together, making them soulmates, sharing one mark, emotions, and thoughts. Can they find each other, love each other, and revel in their match? Or is it too difficult to work?
1. Prolouge - What is Love?

_PROLOUGE – What is Love?_

 _What is love?_

 _It's a question that's never failed to confound Yuuri. Many times, he's asked himself that question. In the end, however, Yuuri decided it was too hard to define love._

 _Love came in many forms, so for it to be one thing was essentially against the nature of love itself. He loved his family who never abandoned him and continually supported him unconditionally. He loved his friends who kept him going and gave him strength. He adored Viktor Nikiforov, who embodied everything he loved about being on the ice and what he wanted to become. He loved ice skating and putting in the hard work in order to achieve something greater._

 _However, none of his experiences had prepared him to know a love between lovers, the kind of love he knew he lacked so far in his life._

* * *

There was a time, long ago, when Yuuri felt like he could love another person—when he felt love and returned love as it came. The innocence of his childhood, the protection his family provided—whatever caused it, he remembered very vividly his excitement at the prospect of having a soulmate. It was a time when Yuuri wanted to be loved and love one person with all his heart, to protect them and cherish them. There was a moment in particular Yuuri remembered exhibiting his child-like, loving tendencies.

It was a windy night in Hasetsu, Yuuri's hometown. Gusts of wind scattered the sea breeze gently across the sandy beach as the night settled into the quiet darkness of the town. Yuuri remembered it being the scene of serenity and peace, something Yuuri had a hard time imagining now.

His family had gone out on an outing, waiting for the forecasted meteor shower to light up the sky. Yuuri remembered bits and pieces, but being so young, the details were blurry. Excitement. Joy. Warmth. It was a happy memory despite it all. But Yuuri remembered a conversation, spurred on by his bubbly self as a kid.

"Okaa-san! Look look! There are so many sparkly things in the sky!" He pointed to show his mother what he was talking about. The boy fidgeted, beaming with energy. His mother, Hiroko, chuckled at his innocence.

"Do you know what those sparkly things in the sky are called, Yuuri?" She asked with a warm smile on her face as she looked at Yuuri with endearment.

The boy looked puzzled and shook his head, messy black locks swaying with the motion and the wind. The brown-haired woman giggled at Yuuri's answer and explained, "Those sparkly, shiny dots in the sky are called stars. They are shining from a far-away place, so far away that they are small in the sky. Isn't it amazing that the light from such a faraway place reaches us here?" Hiroko smiled, clear affection for her son lighting her face.

"Wow…" Yuuri whispered in wonder and stared in amazement at his discovery of stars. Moments passed in content silence until Yuuri asked, "Why do the stars try so hard?"

Yuuri's mother looked back at her son with a small, confused face. Yuuri's child-like energy had lessened, and he looked more subdued and focused on the sky. "What do you mean Yuuri?"

The boy looked at his mother and then back at the sky slowly, like he was thinking deeply about the stars themselves. "If they're so far away, why do they shine so bright so that we can see them?" He asked with more clarity to his question.

The woman looked up at the stars in contemplation. After a second, she smiled and said, "I think that maybe the stars are lonely, so they shine to have someone to cherish them. What do you think Yuuri?"

Yuuri seemed to have had an aha moment and swiveled around in his mother's lap. "Okaa-san!" He exclaimed. "I'm going to cherish my star so that they won't be lonely anymore!"

His mother, Hiroko, laughed gently at his declaration and asked, "What is your star Yuuri?" She asked curiously.

He looked back at her, momentarily confused, and then seemed to realize something. "My soulmate. See? Isn't it a star?" He said, throwing his mother off for a second and then she realized his connection. However, after he pulled down his shirt and she could see where his soulmark was, she chuckled softly.

His sister, Mari, seemed to have finished her conversation with their father and heard the end of Yuuri's question. In reaction, she glanced over at her baby brother's soulmark he was showing Hiroko and laughed loudly over Hiroko's gentle voice.

Yuuri pouted and let his shirt come back up to cover the skin of his chest once more. "Mari-neechan! That's mean."

Mari yanked his shirt down to reveal it once more and explained through her tears, "Yuuri, this isn't a star," she huffed out a giggle and breathed hard to regain her breath, "this is a snowflake ya' stupid-head." She kept on laughing and released his collar.

In disbelief, Yuuri pulled the fabric and looked down at the silvery skin glimmering in an intricate pattern of lines, curls, and dots once more.

"I think it looks like a star to me," he blushed in embarrassment but stubbornly held to his belief.

Hiroko covered Yuuri's hand gently and moved it so his shirt returned to covering his breast muscle. She grabbed Yuuri's hands and asked him, "Yuuri, is this the star you said you're going to treasure?"

Yuuri returned to full energy and nodded his head ecstatically. "Of course!"

Hiroko's eyes closed in blissful happiness at the purity of her son's heart. "I'm sure you can do it Yuuri. Always treasure them."

A white, shimmering line danced across the sky as Yuuri agreed with an energetic hum.

It was so long ago when Yuuri felt those pure feelings, untainted by cruel truths and realities. All Yuuri knew now is that he did not deserve love. No, more than that, he couldn't do what he promised so long ago. How could he treasure someone else if he saw himself as worthless?

* * *

Viktor had never known a time when he didn't desire love.

It was something he constantly craved, and for many reasons. His parents were never satisfied, as they'd always wanted him to achieve great heights in things he couldn't care less about. He never had close friends, although he'd easily slipped on a mask of fake happiness to draw in willing acquaintances. Then, he was a die-hard romantic with a great hope and striving for romantic love. However, early in his life Viktor had come to realize that his life was not normal. Despite his unrealistic expectations of what love should be, he knew and lived with the fact that he couldn't expect much from those around him.

At some point, Viktor started to do whatever he could to obtain and keep love in his life, starting with doing anything and everything to make his father happy. His father was a strict man, and he'd wanted his son to follow in his footsteps. So, for a few years, Viktor indulged his father, did everything he wanted and in turn, Viktor felt like he was slowly losing himself. However, Viktor would do anything, including sacrificing his happiness and his own identity, for the sake of love, even the twisted love his father gave him for obedience. His mother saw the storm of Viktor's life and tried to help him, but she too struggled to keep herself from doing exactly what his father did to him.

No, Viktor didn't think he would ever be happy and in love, but he wanted it with his entire being.

Viktor remembered the day his family fell apart and he was rejected for being who he was. He was only 12 years old.

"Mama! Did you see that?" Viktor shouted and waved, his shoulder-length silver hair flopping as he bounded towards his mother. He openly flashed his medal in the air and continued, "I won a competition! A real figure skating competition! And I landed my salchow! Didn't I look cool? I guess all that practice really did bring results!" the boy bounced up and down in front of his mother with endless energy. After saying his peace, he threw open his arms in barely concealed anticipation.

The silver curls framing his mother's face swayed with movement as she turned to give the boy a quizzical look. "What is it Viktor?" she sighed in exasperation.

"My reward mama. I want a congratulatory hug." He kept a careless happy façade, but his heart quickened, and his smile strained at the anxiety building in his mind.

The woman let out another sigh, bent down, and gave her son a hug.

"You did well Viktor. Keep it up, make me proud." Hoping it would last longer, Viktor reached up to hold his mother in their hug, but she moved back quickly. The woman unraveled herself from the embrace and Viktor returned his hands to his side. He stood dazed in the happiness of winning a major competition.

"Hurry up Viktor. We need to get home before your father starts to wonder where we went." She rushed the boy out of the rink and into a taxi. The woman busied herself with the task of taking Viktor's skating bag and shoving it into an inconspicuous hockey bag. "Where's your costume Vitya?" His mother slipped in the diminutive. He reluctantly gave it to her and she immediately threw it into a plastic bag to later throw away.

Viktor knew his father didn't approve of figure skating for men. He believed that, if you did such a thing, you became less than a man, and his father hated male figure skaters for it. His father was a prominent hockey player, and he often spoke to Viktor about how much he wanted him to be just like him and rule the hockey world. Whether or not it was for his father's dream or his father's hatred, his figure skating was a strict secret kept from his father.

His mother, despite her harsh language and actions, spoiled her son and helped him with his dreams. She wanted him to succeed, but she didn't want her husband to know she supported him. She, in her younger days, was a prima ballerina and understood the things that made Viktor love the ice. It was why she loved dance. So, for as long as she could, she'd pushed Viktor to succeed in what he loved and, all the while, hoped to keep it a secret, meaning Viktor had to as well.

However, both of them didn't think about what they would do once Viktor started to enter the spotlight of fame. After the competition today, it made his mother realize how impossible this secret might've become. There were so many cameras, so many people, and the rink closed all other activities in light of the major competition. A bead of cold sweat fell from Viktor's mother's forehead despite the chilling cold of the outdoors.

Once home, the minute they opened the door his father greeted the pair with eyes like a hawk.

"Welcome home Viktor, Valeriya. Care to tell me what practice you both came from?" He glared at his mother, then hardened it at Viktor. The clear lack of diminutives left the greeting cold and empty.

"Papa, you know we go to hockey practice every Tuesday." He explained smoothly. He hoped his father wasn't in an interrogative mood, but he clearly didn't believe what Viktor had just said.

"Vlad-" Viktor's mother started to try and explain again, but he held his hand up to signal her silence.

"What about the fact that there was a relocated boy's figure skating competition featuring children nearing the Junior Grand Prix age range today at the main rink? The supposed hockey practice you speak of didn't happen. The rink canceled it!" He paused, and if his sharp blue eyes could get any colder, he added, "But, you see, it wasn't just that. While trying to find your supposed hockey practice, I noticed a very familiar face on the ice of a _figure skating_ competition for _boys_." His father ground out the words with pure hatred and disgust evident in his voice.

He continued, "I saw you Viktor, so I want you to explain why my son," he repeated with more emphasis, "my son, was doing a woman's sport." He spat out the words at the end.

Viktor stood in horror. His mother moved her hand between Viktor and her husband.

Dropping the façade of Viktor being at hockey practice, his mother defended, "Vlad, it's what he loves to do. What's the harm in that?"

Viktor's father growled, "My son is destined to be a man of the ice, a hockey player!"

"Vlad, you can't just make him do whatever you want him to do! He has a mind of his own!"

"What about you?! You're doing the same thing! You have no right…"

Their voices faded off as Viktor trudged back to his room, grabbing the forgotten, fake hockey bag and his costume. At least this time he got to keep his costume. Viktor curled up on his bed and hugged it close to his heart as he sobbed silently in the dark solitude of his room. He hoped that, maybe one day, his parents would understand why he loved figure skating and would support him for it.

 _Maybe one day_ , Viktor consoled himself as he slipped into sleep.

All Viktor wanted was for someone to truly love him for what he was—Viktor. But even after freeing himself from the stifling confines of his family, he never escaped the routine he created. Being a fake Viktor. He just kept smiling for the cameras, laughing for the interviewers, and no one ever ventured any deeper, leaving him all alone to himself.

* * *

Love is a thing that has to be given and received. There can not be one without the other. One who has love but no one to share it with is missing an important piece of their life and, in the same way, one who has given love without having any for themselves is missing a vital piece of their life. In light of this, fate made to complete the two halves and make them a whole.


	2. Chapter 1 - Love is Hard

**Chapter 1 – Love is Hard**

Cold, biting wind raced across Yuuri's face as he rotated in the air weightlessly, arms tucked closely into his body as he hoped for the best. He knew he was too hopeful, but a man can dream. With a small huff, he kicked his leg out to balance himself as he returned to the ice. Unfortunately, his landing was unbalanced, he fell on his side out of the triple salchow.

For a moment, Yuuri lied there on the ice staring at the ceiling. He couldn't help but feel frustrated at the growing number of failures he kept experiencing. The entire day, he gradually started failing more and more of the simplest things he could, on a normal day, easily do.

Today was not a normal day.

His heart raced, nerves burned under his skin. Today was the last day he could have a decent practice because tomorrow, he was off to the Japanese nationals. It seemed like, the older he got, the more he saw and, therefore, the more anxious he'd get. The Japanese national figure skating event would open so many doors for Yuuri—so his coach said—and it was _imperative_ that he make an impressive, excellent impression. His thoughts spiraled down deeper into the darkness. He didn't want the pressure of the stakes to overwhelm him, but it seemed out of his control at this point. He was stumbling even simple spins. The burn of his muscles saved him temporarily from his out-of-control spiraling, but when he recovered and tried to continue practice, his anxieties came back at full force to keep Yuuri from focusing.

He let out a groan of irritation and kicked once at the ice. He knew he couldn't keep practicing with this mindset. He mentally noted he'd have to make a visit to Minako's ballet studio after school and gave up practice that morning.

Honestly, it was hard to cope. Yuuri knew exactly how he was supposed to—how he wanted to perform his skate, but it never seemed to come together properly. He didn't want to say he hated himself, but he hated quite a bit about himself, and that included his anxieties. He wasn't sure he'd ever be enough.

"I wonder how Viktor does it…" He muttered under his breath.

Despite his self-hatred, Yuuri knew the power Viktor Nikiforov held over him. He knew it and he allowed himself to be motivated by Viktor's skating on more than one occasion. If he ever felt confused, scared, lonely, angry, depressed or helpless, he could always count on Viktor to bring up his spirits.

Losing himself in thoughts about his idol, Viktor Nikiforov, he imitated a step sequence he saw Viktor perform in his senior debut.

Viktor's silvery long, flowing hair came to mind, bringing a serene smile to Yuuri's face. The silver snowflake prickled against his chest, but Yuuri pushed it to the back of his mind as he skated.

It was moments like these Yuuri appreciated so much. Viktor—the beautiful ice god. He stole his breath away when he first saw him. After getting a taste of the ice, he could never get enough. The ice changed the way Yuuri saw Viktor. Viktor was no longer a fantastical, other-worldly creature that stunned all with his beauty. Rather, Yuuri admired his abilities, his devotion to skating, and the passion he truly saw in the man. His looks were a bonus, of course, but he knew that wasn't all there was to the man.

When Yuuri thought of Viktor, he couldn't help but be happy. He didn't know what to make of it, but Viktor was special, so he clung to that feeling in the way he knew best. He danced on the ice.

Thirty minutes of skating Viktor's routine had Yuuri losing track of time in the real world.

"Yuuri-kun, we're going to be late for school! Hurry up and go change!" Yuuko shouted from the edge of the rink.

With a start, Yuuri came back to reality.

Ashamed that he allowed himself to get lost in thoughts of Viktor, he shook his head as he hurried off the ice and quickly changed for school in the locker room.

"Yuu-chan, you don't have to go with me everyday if you don't want to." He offered a polite smile as they walked out of the rink.

She huffed and berated Yuuri, "What kind of friend would that make me?" She playfully punched Yuuri's arm, and added, "But honestly, I've got to watch out for you. Nishigori won't bully you if I'm with you."

Yuuri gave a small, tight smile, a little irritated at the insinuation that he was weak. "I can handle myself." With a pause, Yuuri's shifted his bag and realized he mistakenly grabbed the wrong one. "Yuu-chan, maybe you should go by yourself. I just remembered I meant to leave my gear in the locker room and I brought it with me by habit."

Yuuko's smile dropped slightly, but she sighed and went on her way. "See you at school Yuuri-kun."

Yuuri ran back to rink and swapped his school bag for his skating bag. Remembering what Yuuko said, Yuuri ran to school hoping Nishigori wouldn't be waiting at school like a cliché bully.

Of course he was wrong.

The minute he made it through the school gates, he was pulled aside by a few delinquents led by Nishigori, who apparently didn't mind missing class to abuse Yuuri.

"Hey fatso!" Nishigori jeered.

That day, the bullying was just as violent verbally as it was physically. Usually, Yuuri got punched, kicked—the usual rough-up he got from the lot of rebellious kids. That, Yuuri had gotten accustomed to. That day, however, Nishigori tore into his soul with the words that would last a lot longer than a few bruises and scratches.

"Soulmate or not, no one'll ever want a fatso like you."

Yes. All of the physical abuse that followed those words didn't matter, because Nishigori hit a spot that Yuuri thought he'd never be able to recover from. He'd solidified the fear Yuuri had held with him all those years, engraving them on his heart so he'd never forget.

No matter who was on the other end, they'd never love him. Yuuri knew that without them telling him. He would never deserve the love of another person. Because Yuuri would never be enough.

Wet tears covered Viktor's face as he shakily rang the bell to Yakov's residence. He couldn't help the small hiccups that escaped his throat as he tried to reel in his sobbing.

Yakov grumbled irritably in Russian, "Coming. Vitya, I swear if you've gotten into trouble agai-"

He stopped short of what he was saying when he saw, not only was it indeed Viktor, but it was also a sobbing Viktor with a crazed, lost look on his face. Yakov froze for a second and melted into action quickly.

"Vitya, what's wrong?"

He waited patiently for the 18-year-old man to breathe a little. After a moment, Viktor finally looked up to meet the hard, concerned gaze of his coach through his glistening orbs brimming with more unshed tears.

"Yakov..." his voice cracked a little as Viktor hugged the man, eliciting a soft gasp from Yakov before could help himself. Instead of rejecting the hug, he closed his previously gaping mouth, waiting for the boy to explain himself.

"They did it Yakov..." he whispered into Yakov's chest. He took a few stabilizing breathes and looked up at Yakov's face.

Viktor's face was puffy and wet, and his eyes visibly looked like they burned from how red they were.

"My parents," he started again, bringing Yakov to full attention. His pupil did not have a good relationship with his parents, and he worried what would come of such a rocky relationship.

"They disowned me Yakov." He sobbed as he finished his coach's name.

Yakov looked down at Viktor schooling an expression of shock. He did not think his parents would so blatantly abandon their child. Even though Viktor could be difficult, he was a good boy who tried very hard to please others, so much that he would hurt himself in the process. Then, his muscles tensed in anger at Viktor's parents. The poor boy should not have to endure this. He was not only talented, but he genuinely cared about what people thought, making him a sweet albeit mischievous person.

He felt anger at Viktor's parents for failing to love their child and he felt shock at what this man had to have been going through.

Yakov gently guided Viktor inside and led him to the living room.

"Breathe Vitya. It's going to be okay. How about you stay with me till you are willing and able to live on your own?" Yakov suggested with an uncharacteristically soft tone.

Even though Yakov didn't like to admit it, he'd grown lonely after Lilia left him and, knowing that he saw Viktor as his own son, he didn't mind watching over him like he was now. The poor boy, no matter how irritating, truly did not deserve the treatment he received from his parents every day. For being a figure skater, for having long hair, for being gay—he never got a break from them. Everything he liked about himself, his parents hated. It finally had reached a breaking point, and that's what led Viktor to Yakov's house. He had nowhere else to go.

After a few days of living with Yakov, Viktor stopped crying all the time. He seemed to have come to terms with his parents' rejection, which was good, but he worried about the boy, not only as a coach, but as a person. Viktor lacked so much love, when he deserved that and so much more from his parents.

Yakov took a comforting, large sip of his morning black coffee when Viktor came out and about for the day. It would've been a normal day except one thing—Viktor's hair didn't reach past his shoulders, but rather covered his face and ended at the top of his neck.

"Vitya! Why..." he trailed off. He didn't know how to ask, but Viktor seemed to have gotten the question without the words. He played with the fringe covering his right eye, and simply stated nonchalantly, "I just felt like cutting it. It's good to change your look once in a while, you know?"

With that, he left the room to go out to practice. Yakov didn't know how to react. Will he be okay?

Viktor's soul mark burned against the skin of his chest.

"Are you suffering too? I really want to meet you." He teared up as he thought to himself.

However, the only reply he received was the dull throbbing of his mark on his breast.


End file.
